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“You mentioned in your letters that you thought this site might have Atenist connections. Because of her.” Ellie pointed to the bones of the dead queen by their boots.

Adam caught her eye. He raised a questioning eyebrow, but Ellie pressed on, knowing any more detailed explanation would have to wait.

“If your theories about the cult of the Aten and the move toward monotheism among the Hebrews during the time of the Exodus are correct…” she continued.

“What does your invasion of my tomb have to do with the Exodus?!” Neil burst out, throwing up his hands.

“Because we’re looking for the Staff of Moses!” Ellie retorted, her patience snapping.

Sayyid’s eyes widened. Neil’s jaw dropped—and then snapped shut again, his eyes blazing with anger and bewilderment.

“This is barking!” he burst out. “First you show up in my tomb out of nowhere, and then Bates pops up like a bad penny—which makes absolutely no sense at all…”

Ellie shot a guilty look over at Adam, who grimaced.

“And thenshe’shere,” Neil jabbed a finger toward Constance, “rambling on about clues and villains like we’ve plunged into some tawdry dime novel! And the next thing I know, we’re breaking into an extremely important New Kingdom site against the entirely reasonable wishes of my funders, and you’re ranting about the parting of the Red Sea!”

“Goodness!” Constance said, pulling her attention from a miraculously upright Eighteenth Dynasty table covered in debris. “I haven’t seen him this worked up since that time I glued all his textbooks to his desk.”

Neil made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

“Might want to save the rest of the lecture for later,” Adam suggested. “Last we heard, that jackass professor was headed for the tomb shaft—and he doesn’t usually travel alone.”

“So will the clue be round?” Constance returned her gaze to the rubbish on the table. “Or stick-like?”

She picked up the neck of a smashed vase to give it a better look.

Ellie, Neil, and Mr. Al-Ahmed all lurched forward.

“Don’t touch that!” Neil cried out.

“Connie, you really oughtn’t…” Ellie started.

“If you could please refrain from handling…” Mr. Al-Ahmed began, his voice strangled.

“Oh!” Constance said. “Sorry.”

She quickly set the vase back down on the table.

The table promptly collapsed.

The small mountain of damaged artifacts cluttering its surface tumbled to the ground. Mr. Al-Ahmed let out a groan of dismay as he rushed toward the catastrophe, Ellie close on his heels.

She sneezed against the dust that filled the air, waving it aside for a better look. The tabletop hung askew, slanted over two broken legs, while its contents lay in a heap at her feet. It was hard to tell what was newly damaged and what had already been broken.

“We should clear the fallen objects first,” Mr. Al-Ahmed recited as though on instinct as he gazed forlornly at the pile, “after documenting their positions. Then we can see if the table can be stabilized or whether it must be carefully disassembled.”

Ellie’s gaze snagged on something that protruded from a nest of papyrus matting—an arc of gold like the first glimpse of the rising sun catching her eye. Instinct tugged at her, and she reached out, carefully withdrawing the artifact from the shredded material.

The slender, square wooden box was a little larger than her hand. Its lines were still plumb, the wood grain reasonably tight even after three thousand years. The only ornamentation on its surface was a single, perfectly round disk of thinly inlaid gold, set into the narrow front face.

“It’s a jewelry box,” she said wonderingly.

The lid consisted of a panel that slid against grooves carefully carved into the sides. It was partially open, left that way by the thieves who had rifled the piece for treasure.

“Please,” Mr. Al-Ahmed said worriedly. “May I see that?”

He sounded like a mother asking for the return of her child. Ellie obliged him, hovering close by as he examined the relic. His immediate panic settled as he took in the box’s relatively sound condition.